Half The Man That I Used To Be
by Nelliephantt
Summary: Kurt learns the pain of rejection and the consequences of self-deception; a reality-check that threatens to suffocate him. AU.


**A/N:** This turned out pretty dark actually, darker than I expected it to. I'm quite proud of it though, so I hope you enjoy it! :)  
Title  
**Summary:** _Kurt learns the pain of rejection and the consequences of self-deception; a reality-check that threatens to suffocate him._  
**Warnings:** _Gay sex; the tiniest bit of description, blink and you'll miss it. Self-hatred. Can I count this as dub-con? Pure, unadulterated angst; lots of it._  
**Word Count:** _1,636._  
**Disclaimer:** _I do not own any of the characters named in this piece. I don't even own the Marc Jacobs :/._

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As Blaine thrusts into Kurt; pistoning away, racing towards the finish line, the tears finally fall down Kurt's face. He doesn't even understand why he's here; crying and letting himself be used by the man he fell in love with so long ago. He turns his head to the side, letting the tears fall more steadily onto the bed sheets of the hotel room.

He feels he should savour this, this one last time, because he knows it'll never happen again, he'll never let himself do this again. But not even the high thread count registers in his mind as he tries and fails to tell himself to close his eyes and just pretend, just this one last time. He doesn't trick himself into believing that Blaine loves him, no matter how much this room cost him to book, he doesn't even convince his dick to stay hard and complete the performance; he's soft and definitely no longer aroused but he can't even bring himself to care. He's waiting for the pain, the burn of his rectum as his body begins to tense up, his mind and body and soul just wanting this to be _over_ - but the sting either doesn't come or he doesn't feel it. The latter makes more sense; he would be surprised to feel anything past the almost blinding pain of this rejection, of his own self-hatred.

He feels Blaine's thrusts start to stutter and finally with a shout, Blaine climaxes. The sudden rush of wet heat inside him makes him feel sick, makes him feel even more disgusted at himself. They'd stop using condoms a month or so ago. They were both clean but that wasn't why Kurt agreed to it, he had agreed because he was still holding on to his stupid fantasy. No condoms, like _lovers_. Lovers don't use condoms, fuck buddies do. Hook ups do. Not them. But now with this hot, sweaty man collapsed on top of him and panting, Kurt wishes he'd never even agreed to step out of the friend-zone in the first place. Kurt assumes that Blaine pulls out slowly and carefully, though he barely notices. The cool air hitting his opening, however, comes as a shock as he realises that Blaine is finished. The new insight brings forth a fresh wave of nausea. _He didn't even try and get me off as well_, Kurt thinks, horrified. With this it's all too much, the final straw. He needs to get out of there, now. With tears still streaming down his face, his voice is thick when he speaks.

"Blaine," he says. "Blaine, get off me." He's hopes he's polite in his tone, but he really can't tell with his perception this hazy. Blaine grunts in response, but heaves himself off of Kurt and sprawls on his back next to him. Another sob gets caught in his throat as Kurt notices another change between them. Blaine had always had a thing for after-sex cuddling. In his post-coital haze, Blaine would always wrap himself around Kurt, who would laugh and accuse him of puppy-like behaviour which would always entice a chuckle out of Blaine, a deep and throaty one, and then he'd cuddle even closer to Kurt and nuzzle his neck for good measure, but not today. Not this time. Possibly not the time before this, or the time before that either. Kurt had been too caught up with his pretence to even notice. Before he can even think twice about it, Kurt is up and redressing himself; dragging socks onto his feet and yanking jeans up his legs, hoping Blaine won't turn over and see his attempt to hurry out of the door. As if the mantra '_please don't roll over, please don't roll over_', has at some point slipped from Kurt's lips; Blaine shifts, his eyes snapping open in his movement.

"Going somewhere?" He drawls. Kurt freezes momentarily before he can help himself. _Just breathe, Kurt_, he reassures himself.

"Yes," Kurt replies in a clipped tone, his voice clearer than he expected and stronger than he feels. Blaine doesn't immediately reply, thus Kurt busies himself with locating his other sock. The search for every single item is hindering him and he inwardly curses himself for _letting_ Blaine rip all his clothes off and through them all around the room.

"Kurt," Blaine's voice is careful. "Is there something wrong?" There's a genuine concern in his voice and Kurt can't stand it. Memories of a kinder, sweeter Blaine that he had ridden to school with in his Navigator or toasted marshmallows with under the stars on camping holidays flood his brain. Kurt clamps his mouth shut for a moment before either a scream of anguish or a sob of resignation can be emitted. The nicer Blaine is, the harder it will be for Kurt to resist again.

"Yes," Kurt repeats after a beat. He had considered lying, but the cold and hard truth will shut Blaine out. A clean, sharp break. With underwear, trousers, both socks and shoes, and a belt on, he begins the search for his shirt. He becomes frantic as he hears Blaine getting up.

"Hey, Kurt, talk to me. What's up?" Blaine's voice is smooth and concerned, compassioned enough for Kurt to abandon his shirt and look for his jacket instead. He bites his lip in panic; time is running out. Blaine walks towards Kurt with his arms held out and the latter finds himself pinned, to a degree. Whilst there a few feet between himself and Blaine, access to the rest of the room is blocked by Blaine's body. Kurt spies the door to his left almost at the same time as his eye catches his Marc Jacobs thrown on the back of the high-backed wicker chair on the other side of the room. For a long moment, he seriously considers leaving it and bolting for the door. That plan becomes moot however, when he's suddenly enveloped in the heat of Blaine's body. Blaine is _hugging him_. Once again, Kurt freezes. Blaine pulls back to look at Kurt's face, thick eyebrows knitted together in concern.

"What's the matter?" Blaine asks. "Are you crying? Why are you crying?"

Kurt barely remembers the half-dry tears on his face when his eyes meet Blaine's. Blaine's warm, hazel eyes are searching Kurt's face with that same confused and worried expression.

_He doesn't care about you, don't fall for it_, Kurt attempts to chastise himself, but not even that can stop fresh tears from falling.

"Oh Kurt, baby, talk to me." Blaine goes to pull him in to another hug, but Kurt is alert enough to pull away this time. _Baby_. Blaine hasn't called Kurt that nickname in a long time, it had probably been months. Kurt used to hear it every day from that fateful summer last year when they were both home from college, when this stupid fling had started; on their coffee dates, during their late night phone calls, on every single goodnight text. Kurt's number was even saved as 'Baby' on Blaine's phone. One evening not two months ago, Kurt had surprised Blaine by returning home for the summer early with every intent to rekindle their romance. They'd driven out of town and had ended up stargazing – _so romantic_ Kurt had gushed at the time. Kurt had borrowed Blaine's phone to call his dad to let him know that he was safe and that his cell battery had just died, and there in Blaine's phonebook above 'Kurt Home' was 'Kurt'. Shocked, he even clicked his name and sure enough, there was his number. It's times like that, and like the one that's happening now, that Kurt has no idea where he stands with Blaine. And the uncertainty scares him, but more than that, it's the hold Blaine has over him. The hold that is about to snap back into place like a rubber band if he doesn't get of there fast.

"No, Blaine," he says, his voice thicker than he'd like, but strong, and that's what he needs right now. He almost laughs at the irony when he processes the thought; he needs what Blaine had always taught him – courage. "I'm not doing this anymore."  
Blaine gasp and reeled back in shock.  
"Doing what? You…you're not leaving me are you?" He asks incredulously.  
"Leaving you?" Kurt echoes in shocked voice of his own. "But Blaine we were never together." He holds his psychological walls tighter, reminding himself not to give in or hope for anything. He had asked Blaine on dates and to be his boyfriend numerous times, but the answer was always the same; no.  
"But Kurt - " Blaine cut himself off, before swallowing and trying again. "I thought- "

"Well you thought wrong. Please Blaine, just let me go." Kurt's voice breaks on the last word and before he can think twice about it, he pushes Blaine away and dives for his jacket. He sees Blaine stumble backward slightly, mouth hung open as if in shock, but he makes no move to stop Kurt. And as much as that breaks Kurt's heart, he's glad, because he'd always known. He'd always known that his love was unrequited. With a hand on the door knob, he took a deep breath and turned to look at Blaine one last time.  
"I love you, Blaine," he says, before slamming the door shut behind him.

He races out of the building, ignoring all the anxious gasps and stares from the people in the lobby. As soon as an unseasonably cool June breeze hits his face, he inhales, gulping down huge mouthfuls of air. He's immediately crestfallen. The relief, the _freedom_ that he expects to feel isn't there. Instead there's nothing but cold, hard, heartache and Kurt hasn't felt so trapped in his life.

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**A/N:** _Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think. :)_


End file.
